I apologize that this update took so long to get up. Between the new season starting and a nasty case of writer's block, I just couldn't get this done. In fact, the Booth/Sweets conversation is all BrainySmrfs. I was absolutely stumped on how to write such an important conversation with the correct tone, and Smurfs stepped up and just pounded it out. I both hate and love her for that. LOL

In any case, the next chapter should be up in the next day or so, and it will be the last full chapter of this story, save for the epilogue.

Thanks again for your patience!

~NM

Chapter Thirty-Six

Sweets moved closer to Daisy, who was sitting next to him at Brennan's large dining room table, and sighed. Two weeks previous, this gathering would have been fun…almost raucous. But despite the efforts of everyone involved, there remained an undercurrent of sadness. Sadness for their missing friends, sadness for each other's losses…and no matter how much Lance tried to embrace the concept of living his life to the fullest, as Erik had suggested, he still had lingering feelings of guilt that threatened to overwhelm him. He had seen how lost Hodgins had looked, could almost feel the pain radiating off Brennan…it was sometimes too much for him to bear.

He watched Booth more closely than the others, taking in his smiles and laughter and putting it through his almost-automatic psych filter, and finally came to the conclusion that despite outward appearances, Booth was having a much harder time dealing with everything that had happened than even Brennan. His usually relaxed grin was forced, the laugh lines on his face more pronounced, his complexion paler. Sweets was sure that Booth, once again, was taking the weight of the team on his broad shoulders without a thought for himself. And sometimes, because the combination of his job and his feelings for Booth made it impossible not to want to help the older man, he both hated and admired Booth for that generally good trait. Unless Booth came to him on his own, there wasn't anything Sweets could do to help him. And even he knew that they all needed Booth to be okay for everyone else to find the strength to move on.

"What are you thinking so hard about there, Lancelot?" Daisy nudged him slightly; eyebrows raised and smile in place.

Shaking his head, Sweets smiled back. "Nothing much. Just thinking about how everyone is doing."

"Well, turn off the shrink mode for today, Lance. Enjoy yourself and your family and relax. Everyone here needs this…you need this. Okay? Do it for us?" She finished with her hand held protectively over her abdomen, reminding him that in seven short months he was going to be someone's father.

"You know it's absolutely diabolical for you to use the baby to get me to do your bidding."

Daisy smiled. "I know. I learned from the best."

Sweets shook his head and watched closely as Booth began picking up dishes to take to the kitchen. "I'll be right back, Daisy." He stood and began helping with the table.

Once Daisy had helped him awkwardly pile several dishes into one cradled arm, he followed Booth into the kitchen, letting the older man take the pile of dishes from him. "Is there something else I can do to help?"

"Nah, Sweets. I've got this. God invented dishwashers for a reason, you know." Booth turned away and began loading everything into Brennan's extra-large capacity dishwasher, not even bothering to rinse anything off as he stacked the dishes.

Sweets contemplated several different ways to start a conversation with Booth, but every single one he came up with made it sound like he was trying to psychoanalyze his friend, when all he wanted was to offer him support. Finally, Booth solved the problem for him.

"So Sweets, how're you feeling?" Booth leaned against the opposite counter and regarded the younger man closely.

"Not too bad. Still in pain, but it's manageable. I start therapy in a month, when the incision is completely healed."

"Good, good…and, uh…how about you know, mentally?" Booth had the grace to look a little embarrassed.

Sweets shrugged, "Getting better, thanks. I know that I'm lucky to have survived and that wallowing in all of this is a disservice to everyone who didn't make it." He paused as relief eased Booth's features a bit. "But I didn't know anyone we lost as well as I knew Angela. And I'm struggling with that. With 'why her and not me'?"

Booth shrugged in return. "Yeah, I get that but…" He paused, searching for the right words in the moment. Finding them he sighed, "Maybe…You have a child on the way, Sweets. Maybe it was divine intervention – not leaving your child fatherless?"

"That's a nice thought but…"

"It doesn't make it any easier, does it?"

Sweets shook his head, "It really doesn't. Angela was…she was a force of nature, you know? I didn't think anything could ever stop her."

Booth nodded, "Me either."

The two men stood silently for a few moments, before Booth spoke, his voice barely a whisper. "I just…I wonder if maybe things would have been different if we had known, you know?"

Sweets could feel Booth needing to let go so he prodded him gently, "Known what? That Ang was still in the building?"

"Yeah. Maybe, if we'd known…I could have gotten there sooner or…"His eyes filled with the tears he had forbidden himself from letting flow for days.

"Booth. You heard what the doctors at the hospital said. It was immediate and painless. Even if you had known, there wouldn't have been anything you could have done."

Nodding, Booth used the toe of his shoe to kick the edge of the fridge. "In my head I know that, Sweets. But I can't…Bones is just and I-"

"I miss her, too you know. We all do." Sweets sighed, "It's okay to say it. And more than that, it's ok to feel it, to let yourself feel it."

Nodding again, Booth cleared his throat noisily. "I do. Miss her, I mean. The lab isn't going to be the same without her." He ran a hand over his face, swiping angrily at the tears he was powerless to stop. "Nothing will be the same." He looked up at Sweets, who was encouraging him to be honest with just a look, "And I'm angry about that and I'm angry about what her being gone has done to Bones. It's a hurt I can't do anything about and that kills me."

Sweets felt his own tears threatening, so instead of fighting them he simply let them go. "No, nothing will be the same. And no, there's nothing you or any of us can do to fix that. We just need to go on. That's how we honor Angela – we go on."

Booth nodded, inhaling deeply through his nose, "We go on. And we will. We have to, right?

"What other choice do we have?"

"There is no other choice." Booth cleared his throat again, "We will be ok, Sweets."

Sweets nodded and wiped his face, smiling faintly, "Everyday I'm starting to believe that a little more."

Booth smiled and moved to throw an arm over Sweets' shoulders. "C'mon, kid. Let's go see what Bones made for dessert."

B&B

Two Months later

Brennan double parked her car in front of the coffee shop and ran in to get her daily caffeine fix. She was running late due to Booth's attachment to morning lovemaking and the fact that their coffee maker had died a slow, painful, incredibly loud and messy death while brewing their first pot. Getting in the long line to wait, her thoughts turned to the reason she was driving herself to work that morning.

Booth had been called in to the federal prosecutor's offices for an early morning meeting about the case against the group that had bombed the Hoover building. Six weeks after that horrible day, a racist militia group from West Virginia was claiming responsibility for the bomb in online missives, stating that the FBI had been getting ready to take them down for various hate crimes, smaller-scale bombings of black churches, and weapons charges, so they decided to make a statement against what they called the "repressive, black-loving, America-hating establishment" and attempt to take out any evidence against them in the process. Unfortunately for them, none of the evidence in question was being kept at the Hoover, and their efforts went for naught. After determining where their training grounds were, federal marshals and FBI agents, led by Booth, swarmed the compound and took every single member down. Most were brought in alive, but six were killed in the ensuing shootout. None of the assault team members were injured.

Brennan noticed that after the arrests, Booth began to sleep more soundly at night. She assumed that it was the relief of bringing in those responsible for the bombing, but after a long talk she was amazed to discover that Booth was only sleeping better because Brennan herself was sleeping better. He admitted that since Angela's death, he had developed a habit of lying in bed watching her toss and turn for hours on end. Brennan had known she was restless and tired, but she attributed it to the stress of the last few months, not realizing that she was having nightmares. And once the guilty parties were arrested, somewhere in her subconscious that stress released itself and she began sleeping through the night again. Which allowed Booth to sleep as well. In fact, it seemed as though the entire team was sleeping better and things were getting back to as normal as possible.

Brennan and Cam had spent the last month reorganizing the Medico-Legal lab at the Jeffersonian, hiring a new entomologist to take over for Hodgins as their first order of business. Replacing Jack turned out to be much harder than either of them had anticipated, but when they'd interviewed Dr. Danielle Taylor, they knew the bright, friendly scientist was the perfect fit for their team. Even Booth liked her right off the bat, and Parker immediately developed a crush on the beautiful young woman. Once Dr. Taylor was in place, Cam began sending out feelers to other government agencies, allowing that the Jeffersonian was offering their services to help them out in any way possible. Within days they were flooded with requests from the CIA, Homeland Security and the Pentagon for consultations, and they had been working non-stop ever since.

With everything in their lives getting back to some semblance of normalcy, Booth and Brennan had finally taken their trip to Max's cabin the weekend before, and had come back feeling refreshed and ready to truly begin their new life together. Noticing that she was next in line for her coffee, Brennan smiled to herself. For the first time in a very long time, she was allowing herself to feel happy, and the thought that they were finally getting back to good began to sound like a real possibility.

The barista took Brennan's order and turned to begin blending her latte, leaving Brennan to her musings. With practiced efficiency, the woman finished the drink and turned to ask Brennan about her preferences.

"Would you like the whipped cream on top of this, sweetie?"

Brennan's eyes lost focus for a moment and her head began to spin. Sweetie. No one had called her by that affectionate nickname in almost three months, and until that moment she hadn't realized how deeply she had missed it. With a soft gasp, Brennan's knees gave out from under her and she fell gracelessly to the floor, unconscious.